


outside, it starts to pour

by enisle



Series: these hearts adore [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Canon Compliant, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, High School, I can't believe I just tagged that, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Making Out, Porn with Feelings, That's It That's What They Are, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enisle/pseuds/enisle
Summary: Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply Oikawa—the boy who cleaves the air with a swing of his arm and the friend who eats half of his lunch and the lover who makes him feel invincible and weightless and weak all at once.Iwaizumi loves him. Iwaizumi loves him and it’s terrifying how that love consumes him just so.Iwaizumi has had many firsts with Oikawa, but what's one more?
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: these hearts adore [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107089
Comments: 22
Kudos: 516





	outside, it starts to pour

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to be a thing, but _[this](https://twitter.com/bokkuatsu/status/1343148287436591104)_ happened, so here it is. the self-indulgent explicit yet still annoyingly lighthearted sequel featuring awkward boyfriends!iwaoi.
> 
> can be read as a standalone! events in the first fic are only vaguely referenced, but you can always check it out if you feel like it ♡
> 
> all the love to christine [ [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protagonists) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/bokkuatsu) ] for beta-ing this mess!

It’s not every day that Oikawa Tooru allows himself to stand with his shoulders relaxed and his smile honest, but Iwaizumi thinks today is one of those days. It should be; it’s the twentieth of July after all, and Iwaizumi would do just about _anything_ to ensure that Oikawa is happy on his birthday ~~regardless of whatever their relationship status is~~.

He was able to achieve this in the last thirteen years by letting Oikawa rope him into doing whatever he wished with minimal complaints, but Iwaizumi figured that as Oikawa’s _boyfriend_ , he should probably ‘up his game’ (Hanamaki’s words, not his) by planning something special, like a road trip or a small party (Matsukawa’s idea, not his). Unfortunately for him, a road trip would require a car—which neither he nor Oikawa owns—and a mini party entails far too much planning Iwaizumi doesn’t want to sign up for, so they agreed on holding a surprise gathering over dinner with the rest of the team instead.

Miraculously, it went well. Or as well as things could be given how they are now heading home from Oikawa’s favorite _ramen_ place where he feigned his surprise upon seeing one long table of intimidatingly tall male teenagers instead of a table meant for two. It took one faked gasp from Oikawa for Yuda to drop all pretenses and ask:

“Okay, when did Hajime slip up?” 

Beaming, Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “I’ve known for a week now!”

(Cue a chorus of “ _Damn it,_ Iwaizumi!”).

But regardless, it still went well. Oikawa had fun—he’s always preferred socializing with people unlike Iwaizumi who opted to stay in when he turned eighteen just a month ago—and that’s what matters to him.

And now they find themselves dawdling by the sidewalk, dragging their feet under one umbrella because it started drizzling when they parted with their friends. Oikawa, the damn idiot, ‘forgot’ to bring one for himself. He scolded Oikawa for it when he knows full well that it’s been raining often, but Oikawa only smiled at him knowingly—which was fair. Iwaizumi knows it’s a lost cause. He can scold Oikawa all he wants, but they both know that there is a specific reason why Iwaizumi always brings a slightly bigger umbrella when they go out together.

But despite not having his own umbrella, Oikawa is adamant about being the one to hold it, insisting that his five-centimeter advantage over Iwaizumi means that umbrella-holding rights should be entrusted to him. If it were any other day, Iwaizumi would have elbowed his solar plexus to retaliate, but alas, it was his day, so he begrudgingly agreed.

Sooner than later Oikawa starts chattering, jumping from one conversational topic to another to fill the silence. He mentions new drills they can try out come Tuesday, makes a brief comment about Kindaichi’s new haircut , and tries to force Iwaizumi into telling him how much they spent over dinner (he might have sucked at keeping the dinner a surprise, but he isn’t going to crack on this one; he doesn’t really want Oikawa sneakily hiding folded bills in their gym bags without them looking).

Through it all, Iwaizumi lets him talk—only sneaking in a comment or two when Oikawa’s anecdotes warrant one—and resorts to just staring at his profile, perfectly content with watching him in relative silence.

But as to be expected, the rain starts picking up and disrupts this fleeting sense of peace, spilling in buckets before they know it. Iwaizumi reflexively wraps an arm around Oikawa’s waist, tugging him closer to his side so they could huddle under their flimsy excuse of protection from the rain. He _almost_ regrets this action though because it seems to have been perfect ammunition for Oikawa to make a dig at him _again_.

“PDA? How brave, Iwa-chan!”

“I just don’t want the both of us to get wet, dumbass.”

He proceeds to ignore Oikawa’s tinkling laughter in favor of sidestepping the puddles on their path, but the adjective echoes in his head, reminding him of all the times Oikawa placed his name with the word in the same sentence as if they shared the same meaning.

Oikawa has always thought of him brave—a sentiment that stuck to him ever since four-year-old Iwaizumi plucked a beetle out of his hair as he sobbed in distress—but Iwaizumi begs to differ. He was not always brave for certain things that mattered; for years he chose to be a coward, hiding the extent of his feelings for Oikawa under half-hearted aggression until that one fateful winter afternoon when he _finally_ decided to let his feelings be known. And even then courage only came to him in sporadic bursts, fleeting and rare. _Always_ , when it comes to Oikawa.

Perhaps what scares him is only his own fear of being wrong about pursuing Oikawa (which doesn’t sit right with him because he can _never_ regret choosing Oikawa). Or the nagging reminder that being with Oikawa may not sit right with others (which doesn’t feel reasonable either considering he couldn’t care less about other people’s opinions). Or the fact that dating your long-term best friend can be—for the lack of a better word— _weird_ (highly likely since he has yet to get used to the fact that he _can_ kiss Oikawa even if they have been together for seven whole months).

Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply Oikawa—the boy who cleaves the air with a swing of his arm and the friend who eats half of his lunch and the lover who makes him feel invincible and weightless and weak all at once.

Iwaizumi loves him. Iwaizumi loves him and it’s terrifying how that love consumes him just so.

But here, under the umbrella shielding them from the pouring rain, Iwaizumi can be the brave boy Oikawa has always made him out to be. He knows that a kiss is most definitely not nearly as inconsequential as a mere beetle nestled in someone’s curls, but he knows he can manage.

Before he could even start doubting himself, he pulls Oikawa closer to him, catches a glimpse of his surprise, and presses his lips against his.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers as he pulls away, the loud patter drowning out the sound of his beating heart. Oikawa blinks slowly in response, lips curving as realization settles in. The dimmed streetlights fail to offer much help, but it’s enough for Iwaizumi to see the pink that paints itself on Oikawa’s cheeks and the smile that blooms with it.

He likes Oikawa best when he looks like this, unguarded and free of all pretenses.

But of course, Oikawa is never one to pass up the chance to tease him, hence:

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” he says in his nauseatingly dreamy voice. “Such a romantic you are!”

“Shut up.”

With a roll of his eyes, he drops the arm that had been around Oikawa’s waist and instead pulls Oikawa by the elbow while snatching the umbrella out of his grasp with his free hand. He hears Oikawa’s mocking chuckles in his ear, but the arm that slips around his own and the body that sidles up to him is telling enough. Iwaizumi understands the cues for what they are, so he bites down the retort bubbling out of his throat and opts to lean closer .

The rain shows no signs of letting up; if anything, it only grows more persistent, drenching their jeans enough to be uncomfortable. The winds do nothing to help their case, and the jacket that Iwaizumi chose to wear for the weather stopped shielding him from the cold several streets ago. Beside him, Oikawa barely suppresses a shiver, and _well_ , Iwaizumi would be damned if he lets his boyfriend get sick on _his_ watch, so he quickens his pace to escape from the downpour sooner.

As they near his house, Iwaizumi considers how he could get Oikawa home; he knows that this six-foot-tall man-child is perfectly capable of walking alone so long as Iwaizumi lends him his umbrella, but the Oikawa residence is further down the street and Iwaizumi is one worrywart. A brief glance at Oikawa also reveals that the fabric of his button-up is already clinging to his skin, so Iwaizumi makes up his mind.

“Hey, do you think you can stay over for the night? I don’t think the rain is stopping anytime soon.”

“How forward,” Oikawa tries to smirk at him, but the chattering of his teeth only makes it look like a grimace. Noticing the pointed look Iwaizumi gives him, he sighs. “I guess so. _Okaasan_ and _otousan_ probably won’t mind, I already ate lunch with them and _nee-chan_ earlier anyway.”

“Let’s hurry up then. You’re already shaking like a leaf and coach will have your head if you get sick before the Interhigh.”

“Just say you don’t want me to get sick, Iwa-chan!”

Despite the lilt of his tone, Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa understands the truth of his statement, so he doesn’t bother to offer a reply. Instead, he leads the both of them to his home carefully in an attempt to not get them any wetter than they already are.

(Of course his efforts were futile; by the time they reach the Iwaizumis’ front door, they are, without a doubt, _soaked_.)

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh of relief the moment he shuts the door, more than glad to be finally sheltered from the cold. The squelch of his wet sneakers is also starting to be disgustingly loud, so he hurriedly toes his shoes off as he leaves his umbrella by the side of the door to dry.

Only after he steps off the _genkan_ does he notice that Oikawa is being uncharacteristically silent.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiot. Stop dripping all over our floor.”

“Are your parents not home?”

_Ah_.

Iwaizumi turns away to hide the tips of his ears that must be tinted red; in his defense, he actually failed to recall that both of his parents would be away when he invited Oikawa over—a fact that he voices out to his smug boyfriend who was now eyeing him with a quirk of his brow.

“ _Otousan_ went to Tokyo for a business trip and _okaasan_ must have taken the night shift today— _hey!_ Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like _what_?” Oikawa quips back, the smirk on his face widening as he uses a more suggestive tone. “Like my boyfriend just invited me to an empty house on my birthday?”

Iwaizumi knows that the blush on his ears has found its way to the rest of his face, and in his mild embarrassment he fails to come up with a decent clapback, so he only huffs and stalks to his room with a laughing Oikawa trailing behind.

“At least let your parents know you’re sleeping over.”

“Consider it done, Iwa-chan!” 

It’s comical how certain things still fluster him when it comes to his relationship with Oikawa; he knows he’s already had seven months to get used to the changes in their upgraded dynamic, and he _has_ gotten used to most things they do together as a couple, _really_ , but the apprehension that comes with doing certain things for the first time never really goes away, does it? Iwaizumi believes that this is the case; what he felt when he first locked hands with Oikawa and when he first kissed him is almost comparable to the slight unease that accompanied him when he spiked a ball over the net for the first time. Or to the slowed down seconds that lead to his run up before his first attempt at a jump serve. Or to the brewing fear of mistiming a hit when he first tried changing his arm swing. Or perhaps a combination of all three or _worse_ —because everything he is capable of feeling is only amplified when Oikawa is involved.

Nevertheless, it all felt the same one way or another. The desire for things to work out perfectly paired with the trepidation about fucking things up on his first try… Iwaizumi knows it all too well.

But it’s not as if the both of them are going to be doing _something_ worth his concern, and it’s not as if doing _something_ for the first time is guaranteed to be on tonight’s agenda, so Iwaizumi forces himself to relax. Putting his thoughts to rest, he shrugs off his dampened jacket and places it inside the half-filled hamper by his closet. He hears Oikawa sliding the door closed and switching his lampshade on behind him, and if the rustling sounds are anything to go by, then Oikawa must be changing out of his clothes too. This, _at least_ , does not bother Iwaizumi all that much; being a student-athlete all through his middle school and high school years meant sharing communal showers with teammates, and considering he’s been playing with Oikawa ever since he first touched the leathered surface of a volleyball, they’ve both seen each other nude more than just a handful of times.

(But Iwaizumi has yet to be acquainted with Oikawa’s nudity in the context of anything remotely sexual. He tries not to continue this train of thought.)

Uncaringly, Iwaizumi steps out of his jeans with a grunt, stumbling a little as he peels the stubborn denim off his legs. He hears Oikawa snicker behind him, but he pays him no mind as he strips his shirt off. The lack of clothing makes goosebumps erupt on his skin, but before he could start contemplating about taking a bath, he feels a pair of arms encircling his waist, a puff of air against his ear, and an unmistakably bare chest pressed against his back. The contact makes his breath hitch, even more so once his neck is introduced to a barrage of kisses.

“Oikawa…” he warns, but in typical Oikawa fashion, he is ignored. Instead, the arms around him tighten as the lips on his neck leave only to nibble on his earlobe softly. Iwaizumi’s eyes flutter closed at the action, the feeling of Oikawa’s teeth tugging at his ear electric, and he almost berates himself out loud for being _this_ affected when they’ve hardly done anything. He honestly misses those days when Oikawa was still a little shy about initiating anything with him; despite their eventful first kiss (which feels like _forever_ ago), Oikawa continued to be hesitant about touching Iwaizumi, and the blush that overtook his complexion every time their hands found each other would have been quite hilarious if Iwaizumi were not in a similar state. It had taken the both of them a while to be comfortable about being openly affectionate—what with being best friends for too damn long—but ever since Oikawa got over this initial reluctance, Iwaizumi’s resolve has been repeatedly tested.

Like right now.

Iwaizumi may not be as brave as presumed, but he considers himself decently strong, and _strong_ he is—until Oikawa’s hands start mapping the ridges of his torso, fingers dancing just above the edge of his waistband.

Bit by bit, he loses himself to the sensation of Oikawa’s mouth on his pulse, sucking hard enough to bruise, but as much as the rest of him would like to continue, he knows he has to do something— _anything_ —to slow things down.

“We need to take a— _ah_ —warm shower, ‘Kawa.”

(Well, that was a piss-poor attempt. A 3 out of 10, if you will. Totally lacked conviction, sounded more like a lie than a plea to stop. Pathetic excuse as well. _Get a grip, Hajime._ )

Oikawa must have the same thoughts as him since he only hums against his neck, tongue teasing the _surely_ darkened skin. “Iwa-chan is enough to make me feel hot though.”

(That… was definitely a 2 out of 10. Had it been anyone else but Oikawa though, it would have only been a 1.)

Iwaizumi fails to stop himself from cringing over the statement, the line too corny to be taken seriously despite the situation they are in. He hears Oikawa huff in his ear, and this reaction only makes him snort.

“You aren’t as suave as you think you are, idiot.”

Quick to notice that the arm around him has loosened, Iwaizumi takes advantage of this window to face Oikawa, eyes immediately drinking up the sight. It doesn’t disappoint; his feigned pout of annoyance contrasted with his blown-out pupils and his lean chest make an adorably arousing picture, and Iwaizumi just knows that the image will haunt him the next time he wakes up with tented boxers.

He doesn’t remember when _Oikawa_ started being synonymous with _mind-bogglingly beautiful_ and _unfairly_ _sexy_ in his book, but quite frankly, he cannot imagine a reality where he doesn’t fall head over heels for his best friend when he looks like _that._

Obviously, he isn’t as superficial as this, and he knows that his feelings for Oikawa run deeper than physical attraction, but he also knows that he has been cosmically fucked since the day he saw Oikawa grin at him in all his gap-toothed glory because the universe could not possibly think he would be straight after that encounter, right?

_Stupid Oikawa. Stupid Oikawa and his stupidly long neck and his stupidly soft hair and his stupidly plump lips and his stupidly long fingers and his—_

No longer as controlled as he was several minutes ago, he doesn’t realize that his hands have found purchase on Oikawa’s shoulders until he hears a soft gasp once he’s turned them around, arms caging Oikawa against the wall.

“ _Kabedon_? Really, Iwa-chan? And you were just mocking m— _mmph_!”

The rest of the sentence is muffled by his mouth, demanding in its aim to reduce Oikawa into putty in his arms just as Iwaizumi himself had been when it was Oikawa holding the reins. Iwaizumi wastes no time easing themselves into it; he immediately parts his lips to introduce a hint of tongue, angling his head to the right to deepen the kiss—nothing like the innocent peck he gave Oikawa under the rain.

There really are certain things that still fluster Iwaizumi when it comes to his relationship with Oikawa, but kissing is no longer one of them. It’s a familiar dance now, no different from most things they do together.

Oikawa sets and he spikes. Oikawa walks and he follows. Oikawa whimpers and he chases after the sound with every ounce of eagerness contained in him.

Oikawa _gives_ , and he’d be damned if he doesn’t give just as much.

The breathy moans that slip out of them paired with the slick sound of meeting mouths are nothing short of obscene, yet it somehow makes Iwaizumi grin _just_ a tiny bit. And as expected, the slip-up does not escape Oikawa’s attention. The smile against his is acknowledgement enough.

He loves this, this lack of space between them and this newfound sensuality they never once considered until half a year ago, but it’s the interlude—the breaking character, the split-second giddiness—that Iwaizumi personally loves the most. He savors the reminder. He savors the reminder that it’s Oikawa he is kissing, and that it’s _Oikawa_ who is with him.

They continue this back-and-forth for a while, but Oikawa must be getting tired of having his back flat against the wall because he starts walking the both of them towards Iwaizumi’s _futon_. Iwaizumi has no complaints about where this seems to be heading, but Oikawa is still very much wet from the rain and he has no plans of sleeping on soaked bedding.

Before Oikawa could take his spot atop Iwaizumi’s blankets, he pushes him off, tutting disapprovingly. “At least towel yourself off, asshole. You are not going near my _futon_ like that.”

Oikawa takes a moment to simply stare at Iwaizumi, eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe that Iwaizumi is actually pausing their little heated make-out session for something so ~~practical~~ trivial, but Iwaizumi only purses his lips, waiting for Oikawa to get to work.

“Way to ruin the mood, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grumbles while patting himself dry. He makes a show out of it, limbs extended exaggeratedly as he wipes all damp areas slower than necessary, and Iwaizumi fights the smile that threatens to show itself on his face. Just as Oikawa places the towel inside the hamper though, Iwaizumi wraps an arm around his waist from behind—a reversed version of their position from earlier.

The hitch in Oikawa’s breath almost makes him laugh, but he sets that aside.

“Ruin the mood?” He drawls, pressing his growing hardness against Oikawa’s backside before turning him around. He’d chide himself for being so bold, but Oikawa’s apparent interest is _right there_ , and he has a point to make. “You sure about that?”

It’s a good thing he knows Oikawa well enough for him to be prepared for the way his boyfriend pulls him in roughly, hands grasping at wet strands and mouths mashing together in another desperate kiss. This time Iwaizumi allows himself to be pushed onto his _futon_ , and soon he finds Oikawa straddling him, looking just a little shy and very much disheveled.

Their pants sound much louder in his bedroom even with the rain that pelted down outside, and with the faint glow of his lamp casting warm light on their bodies, Iwaizumi could not help but think about how rarely they’ve allowed themselves to be intimate. In this brief moment of clarity he also notices how Oikawa is moving against him, hips drawing tight, restrained circles. Each shift makes his toes curl out of reflex, and if it weren’t for the weirdly pinched look on Oikawa’s face that he belatedly takes note of, he would have gone and rutted against him just like that.

Propping himself up with one elbow, he leans forward to cup Oikawa’s face in his hand. “Is everything okay?”

Oikawa looks at him blankly for a second before opening his mouth—only to shut it again. He repeats this a couple of times, seemingly at loss for words, before he averts his gaze to mutter something Iwaizumi was not able to catch.

“What?”

The question somehow makes Oikawa flush red, his cheeks warm in Iwaizumi’s hold, so he tries to stroke his jaw gently in an attempt to coax the answer out of his embarrassed boyfriend.

Oikawa clears his throat once, twice, before turning to face him. “I said I wanted to do _it_.”

The vague reply makes Iwaizumi’s brows knit in confusion, prompting Oikawa to elaborate.

“I want to go _all the way_ with you.”

At the back of his mind Iwaizumi is aware that he must look silly right now, his eyes widened comically and his mouth hung open in surprise, but this is the least of his concerns. There are more important matters to think about, and the only important matter he could be possibly referring to at this very moment is Oikawa asking him to go _all the way._

“By ‘all the way’ do you mean…” He trails off, unsure about how to continue.

“I mean I want to have sex with you, Hajime. Right now.”

It’s crazy how one sentence can make a man feel his heart jump to this throat and his dick harden simultaneously. He knows that the request is not out of left field given the situation they are in, and yet Iwaizumi is unable to find the appropriate words to say, overwhelmed with the sudden spike of want and anxiety.

He is taken aback to say the least, but not in a bad way per se. It’s just—they’ve only given each other messy hand jobs at most three times since they started dating, and only during the previous times one of them slept over. There was also that time Iwaizumi sucked Oikawa off while they were doing their homework sometime last month, and Oikawa only blew him right after because he was, as expected, not the type to be one-upped. That was the furthest they’ve gone, and there hasn’t been a repeat of it since.

It was an unspoken agreement to take things slow, and even if it proved to be difficult at times because of the knowledge that he _could_ touch Oikawa now without his decade-long yearning hiding under the pretense of casually platonic back pats, he was content with how things were. Being best friends for years before they got together meant that they were saved the trouble of having to get to know each other and assessing their compatibility, but it also meant that intimacy was somehow harder to get used to. And Iwaizumi knew that. He was fine with that, really.

(He was definitely not against the idea of moving things along though, but _only_ if Oikawa is positively on board with it.)

Unfortunately, Oikawa must have misinterpreted his lack of response for aversion because hesitation shows itself on his face as he waves his hands in front of Iwaizumi as if to brush his earlier statement off.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! I… I would understand if Iwa-chan isn’t ready yet and we could just cuddle tonight—”

“Wait, Oikawa—"

“No, Iwa-chan, _listen._ We can forget I said anything—”

“Tooru, _wait._ ”

The use of his first name snaps Oikawa’s mouth shut, and Iwaizumi seizes this opportunity to pull Oikawa’s face toward his, eyes searching.

“Are you sure about this, Tooru?”

Eyes downcast, Oikawa fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Hajime, if you don’t want to do it then of course I wouldn’t push you—”

“I said are _you_ sure?”

Iwaizumi leans backward to catch Oikawa’s gaze directly which was still stubbornly avoiding his, but Oikawa chooses to close his eyes in defiance instead. Sighing, Iwaizumi resorts to planting a soft kiss onto Oikawa’s cheek before whispering in his ear.

“Because if you are sure, then I… I want to do it too. I want to have sex with you.”

He pulls away just in time to see Oikawa’s eyes widen, looking too perplexed for someone who brought the matter up in the first place. The befuddlement evident on his features endears Iwaizumi, but it does nothing to quell the bubbling anticipation in his gut over what they just signed themselves up for.

Words seem to fail Oikawa because he forgoes them altogether, choosing to loop his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck for an innocent press of lips. They stay in that position for a while, and Iwaizumi would have no qualms about doing just that if it weren’t for the lack of verbal response from Oikawa, so he pulls back.

“So, are we doing this or not?”

“I want to! I… really do,” Oikawa starts, but his voice trails off into something more reluctant and— _abashed_? “But I’m not actually sure how this is supposed to work.”

There was no stopping the snort that Iwaizumi let out. “Yeah right. You’ve dated a lot of girls and you’re telling me you don’t know how this works? It’s not _that_ different.”

“I’m being serious, Hajime! I…” Oikawa falters, but the incredulous look on Iwaizumi’s face prompts him to continue. “I’ve never done this before.”

“This is your _first time_?” Iwaizumi immediately fires back, mouth agape. They’ve been dating for _seven months_ and Iwaizumi is only learning about this now, sue him for being shocked. With Oikawa’s reputation and his fanbase that was never limited to the population of Aoba Johsai, it was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that Oikawa is essentially just as inexperienced as he is.

“Don’t sound so surprised!” Oikawa huffs, distancing himself from Iwaizumi to cross his arms. “What, are you some sex-expert now or something? Were you going to compare body counts with me, Hajime? Well, it’s at _zero_!”

“Hey, it’s not like that, Tooru,” Iwaizumi acquiesces. “I haven’t done it with anyone either. I just expected that, you know…”

“That what?”

“With all the people you fooled around with before, I just assumed you did it with at least one of them. I’m not judging, though! It’s—it’s valid, I swear!”

“ _Tsk_.” Oikawa shakes his head, and at this point Iwaizumi is starting to have a hard time knowing if Oikawa is being mockingly disappointed, or if he is actually offended. Wanting to appease him, he tries to hug Oikawa closer, but Oikawa only pushes him to lie on his back with a finger to his chest.

“Iwa-chan should know by now that he’s the only one for me.” He says playfully before the smile turns into something gentle, honest. “I could never let things go any further than kissing. I couldn’t imagine myself doing it with someone who wasn’t you.”

“You _dork_.” Iwaizumi declares, and it’s the only warning Oikawa gets before Iwaizumi pulls him to slot their mouths together.

The kiss was neither smoldering nor demure—nothing like their previous ones that night. Instead, it was lightheartedly warm, their smiles wide enough for their teeth to hit each other awkwardly. Their noses also bump several times before they right themselves and pull away, looking at each other with twinkling eyes.

Being friends with Oikawa for a decade and longer should have been enough time for Iwaizumi to get used to how utterly beautiful he is, but if anything, he’s only found new reasons to be in awe of his best-friend-turned-boyfriend each day. His present view attests to that; this image of Oikawa with his sheepish grin, his damp hair matted to his forehead, and his pair of tight black boxers shielding him from complete nudity—it’s as raw as it is breathtaking.

Truthfully speaking, the picture they make would have been cute if not for the shallow roll of Oikawa’s hips, and it is this movement that reminds Iwaizumi of the layers between them—or the lack thereof.

“It’s a miracle you aren’t wearing cartoon boxers tonight, Hajime.”

 _Well,_ trust Oikawa to cut off whatever sappy train of thought Iwaizumi is having about him.

“You own more ridiculous boxers than me, asshole. You’re one to talk.”

Oikawa’s giggle is music to his ears, but now is not the time to wax poetic about the sound, so Iwaizumi reverts to their agenda for the night.

“ _So_ , how exactly are we supposed to do this?”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side questioningly, and Iwaizumi sighs, defeated. _Is he really going to make me say it…_

“Uh, how are we going to go about this? Logistics? Do I—”

“Don’t tire your brain out with big words, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa regards him coyly. “Are you asking me who’s going to top or bottom tonight?”

Given their current position, the blunt phrasing of the question shouldn’t embarrass him anymore, and yet it _does_ , and _oh God why am I such a stereotypical blushing virgin—_

“It’s still your birthday, so I’ll let you decide.” Iwaizumi goes for the non-answer instead, but the insinuation of his reply dawns on him a second too late, so he reiterates: “I mean, I’m fine with either.”

It must not be the response Oikawa was expecting because his expression quickly turns dumbfounded, but he collects himself just as fast. “Hmm, I guess I don’t mind being on top next time—”

Iwaizumi’s breath hitches.

“—but I want my precious Hajime to do all the work tonight.”

The implication of a repeat performance when they have yet to start sends shivers down his spine, but it’s Oikawa’s choice that lights him on fire. His heart leaps to his throat at the thought of Oikawa _underneath him_ , and to worsen things for him, his mind helpfully supplies him with a montage of vague recollections from previous dreams, all of which feature Oikawa looking _wrecked_ —

Iwaizumi takes a shuddering breath before he lifts himself up, kisses Oikawa squarely on the mouth, and flips their position.

Oikawa lets out an audible ‘ _oof’_ once his back hits the _futon_ —his startled reaction stemming either from Iwaizumi’s strength or the display itself, Iwaizumi can’t be sure—which puts a smirk on Iwaizumi’s lips. He is rewarded by an unamused look from his boyfriend, but Iwaizumi doesn’t give him time to comment on his rare show of cockiness. Instead, he goes for Oikawa’s unmarred neck with the intention to leave a hickey. Or two.

“ _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa gasps out not too long later as Iwaizumi bites a particularly tender spot, “don’t leave marks, you brute!”

At this, Iwaizumi smiles against his neck before nipping the same area he’s been paying attention to for the past half minute or so. “You should’ve thought of that when you were the one sucking on my neck like a fucking vampire, Tooru.”

Oikawa whines but makes no further comment, aware that he’s lost the argument already. Besides, they can _probably_ get away with a handful of bruises—it’s nothing a patch of _Salonpas_ can’t hide anyway—so Iwaizumi continues marking Oikawa up and reaches for his hand to interlock their fingers together while his free hand inches lower and _lower_.

However, just as his fingers slip past the waistband of Oikawa’s boxers, Oikawa abruptly pushes him off in alarm.

“Wait! We aren’t prepared!”

Stunned, Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at him. What kind of preparation could Oikawa be possibly talking about, anyway? Are they supposed to have a detailed reevaluation of their relationship before going into this? Is there some unspoken rule they’re violating—

“ _Lube_ , Hajime! And, uh, and condoms! I don’t have any and your dick is _not_ going anywhere near my ass without those!”

Ah, _that_ kind of preparation. “You don’t have to sound so crass, idiot. And it’s fine, I… I actually have some.”

With that, Oikawa looks at him with his mouth agape. “What? Since when did you have spare condoms and lube lying around? Wait—were you actually waiting for this to happen? Oh, you are _so_ lewd, aren’t you—”

“You prick, I only bought it not too long after my birthday just in case! There’s nothing wrong with being prepared…”

“Excuses, excuses! You were eager enough for this that you actually wanted something pervy for your birthday!”

“You literally just asked me to have sex with you on _your_ birthday, Tooru!”

Oikawa laughs loudly at that before sending him a sly grin. “I mean, it is a great birthday gift, isn’t it?”

Groaning, Iwaizumi briefly questions how he ever managed ( _manages_ , as in the present tense, technically) to be patient with Oikawa. “You are _so_ infuriating,” he grits out, and when Oikawa answers him with another chuckle, Iwaizumi swats the inside of his thigh. “For someone who was terribly shy not too long ago, you sure talk a lot.”

“What can I say, the prospect of being dicked down can change a person, Iwa-chan!”

“You are _not_ calling me ‘Iwa-chan’ while we’re trying to have sex.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes exaggeratedly before sighing in resignation, as if choosing not to use that godforsaken nickname when he’s been calling him ‘Hajime’ for a while now is an actual chore. “ _Fine_ , you killjoy."

Iwaizumi pinches his side for that remark and smiles when Oikawa winces. Then, once he’s sure that Oikawa is not going to be making another quip, he closes the distance between them, stopping just before their lips touch.

“Now, where were we again?”

“You were trying to suck the soul out of my neck, I think.”

Iwaizumi appreciates this—this casual banter, this playful exchange, this underlying sense of normalcy despite the fact that they are on the cusp of a new development in their relationship. He’s always treasured all that since they first started dating, especially because he knows that this comfortability is something he will never be able to recreate (not that he plans to) with anyone else. Because they have always been Iwaizumi-and-Oikawa, innately attuned to one another, labels notwithstanding.

He bites down another chuckle to peck Oikawa’s lips before moving downwards, leaving a trail of reddened patches that [hopefully] fade before their next training. He pays special attention to the blooming bruise on the juncture of Oikawa’s neck and shoulder though, mostly because it seems _so_ appealing to look at in contrast with his pale complexion. Or perhaps it is simply because it fills Iwaizumi with an almost possessive sort of satisfaction to see the hickeys that decorate Oikawa’s skin knowing that it is _him_ who put them there.

It’s a weird train of thought, but Iwaizumi knows that his sentiments are not too different from that of his younger self. He’s always wanted to proclaim that Oikawa is _his_ best friend in his own quiet way despite the stoic façade he’s had going on for a while. He takes pride in being the one who knows Oikawa best, and when Oikawa’s admirers come up to him to ask about the things Oikawa likes, he ignores the pang in his chest to remind himself that none of them will truly know Oikawa the way he does. 

Unable to stop himself, he brings his face back up for another kiss as his hands find their way to Oikawa’s sides. Iwaizumi then tugs the waistband of Oikawa’s boxers in silent question, and when he feels Oikawa nod against him, he pulls it down just enough for Oikawa’s dick to spring up.

Without much preamble, Iwaizumi swipes the head to gather as much pre-come as he can before pumping Oikawa’s dick in his hand just to get him fully hard. Oikawa writhes beneath him, hissing at the sudden contact after being restrained in his underwear for so long, and the sight drives Iwaizumi _mad_. The image of Oikawa’s lean body under him—panting and pliant—is too much, but Iwaizumi also wants _this_ to last as long as it could, so he keeps his fist loose, just enough for the friction to stimulate Oikawa just the way he knows his boyfriend likes it, but not enough to push him off the edge.

He keeps his eyes trained on Oikawa as he pumps him ever so slowly, and when he notices how Oikawa has his eyes closed and his lip between his teeth to silence himself, he pauses. As expected, he gets a glare for it, but the intention is to catch Oikawa’s intention anyway.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi smiles at him reassuringly, “it’s just us here, okay? You don’t have to hold back.”

Oikawa flushes at the realization that he has been caught, but he nods nonetheless. He then tries to reach for Iwaizumi’s boxers—presumably to take it off and have access to his crotch—but Iwaizumi only swats his hands away.

“You want me to do all the work tonight, remember?” Iwaizumi smirks at him just as he tightens his hold on Oikawa’s cock through the upstroke. “Let me do it then.”

“ _Unfair_ ,” Oikawa breathes out, hands clawing at the rumpled sheets at the sensation. “At least make it a proper hand job then, you ass.”

“Such a demanding birthday boy,” he teases, but he obliges anyway. He grips the girth in his hand and quickens the motion of his wrist, reveling in the noises that now freely escape Oikawa. It’s reassuring; the thought of losing one’s virginity always seemed daunting (at the very least) to Iwaizumi, but knowing that he’s making his boyfriend feel _good_ drives his nerves away. Hearing Oikawa’s voice grow louder with each slide of his fist also sends his heart into a frenzy simply because hearing a blissed-out Oikawa lose himself like _this_ is a novelty for Iwaizumi. He’s grown familiar with the lilt of Oikawa’s voice when he tries to please the people around him, the rare timbre of his voice when he commands their team on-court, the childlike inflection his speech takes when he tries to get a rise out of Iwaizumi, and the muffled groans Oikawa tries to quiet in fear of getting caught, but not this. Not yet. Their chances or opportunities to be alone together, free from possible interruptions, are few and far between, so Iwaizumi plans to bask in what tonight will offer him.

Sensing that Oikawa is approaching his orgasm, he maintains his pace for a bit more before thumbing Oikawa’s slit and pulling away completely.

“You—what— _Hajime!_ You can’t just— _fuck_ —”

“Patience, Tooru.”

“Fuck that, fuck me _right now_ —”

Iwaizumi chuckles at that, amused that Oikawa’s filter seems to be nonfunctional at the moment. “At least let me grab the lube and the condoms, please?”

“Hurry up then, you mean piece of _shit—_ I can’t believe you’re making me wait on _my birthday_ —your dick better be inside me in five, Hajime—”

“Holy fuck, Tooru.”

He barks out a laugh, unprepared for how crude Oikawa can be. To appease Oikawa’s growing impatience, he wastes no time crawling to where his backpack is to rummage through his things and retrieve the things he needed. It’s an inconvenient place to hide it, sure, but Iwaizumi would rather risk having a fellow teenager in his class see a box of condoms and a bottle of lube in his possession than have his parents accidentally find those items in his room.

He turns around to see Oikawa kicking his boxers off carelessly—perhaps in his desperation to move things along faster—and his mouth almost instantaneously dries up at the sight of him fully nude on _his futon_. His eyes trace the length of his legs and the curve of his hard cock and the slight arch of his back and the lines of his shoulders that lead to his face, red and _wanting_ —

Iwaizumi’s boxers suddenly feel _too_ constricting.

Unfortunately for his poor erection and Oikawa’s efforts to hasten things, Iwaizumi plans to take his time. The last thing he wants for tonight is to make things unpleasant for his stubborn boyfriend by accidentally hurting him, so Oikawa can go bid his ‘ _your dick better be inside me in five, Hajime_ ’ wishes goodbye.

“Looking at me like that won’t get us anywhere, you know?”

“One more word and I will seriously leave you like this, Tooru.”

“Make me shut up then,” Oikawa replies without missing a beat, eyes glinting in amusement. It takes Iwaizumi a second to realize that he was baited into crashing their lips together, but kissing Oikawa is _always_ a good idea anyway, so he digresses. He still has some lengthy preparations to do anyway— _preparations_ he is still admittedly nervous to face given his lack of experience.

Fortunately for him, Oikawa seems to be confident with the way he’s guiding Iwaizumi’s hand between his legs. He still freezes when his fingers graze the puckered muscle though, and when he notices that Oikawa is only breathing steadily without so much as _flinching_ , he pauses to lean away.

“Have you… have you done this to yourself before?” Iwaizumi asks hesitantly, suddenly feeling shy.

“Hajime wants to know if I’ve fingered myself before? As a healthy gay teen, I most certainly did.”

He feels blood rush to his cheeks at the bluntness of the statement and its plausible implications. Is it wrong for him to presume that Oikawa did _it_ to himself with him in mind? Oikawa admitted to liking Iwaizumi for _years_ , so it’s only logical to think that there is a possibility that he was thinking of Iwaizumi, right?

The thought of Oikawa opening himself up with Iwaizumi’s name on his lips is affecting him more than he thinks it should, but then again, they have never explicitly talked about what they do to get off, so he reasons that this is a justifiable response.

“I haven’t tried reaching too deep though, didn’t want to strain my wrist too hard.”

Iwaizumi gulps, the imagery far too arousing for him to bear.

Without gracing Oikawa with a response lest he stutter over a Freudian slip or two, he fumbles with the bottle of lube he got from his bag and squeezes a liberal amount of the product onto his fingers. But he misjudges the strength he puts into doing that (as well as how nervous he actually is) and ends up spilling far too much lubricant on his hand.

He pointedly ignores Oikawa snickering underneath him in favor of eyeing how his fingers glistened with the lube coating them. It feels… _sticky_. But it does look like it’d do the job of making things easier for Oikawa later on, so he shrugs and reaches for Oikawa’s hole.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Iwaizumi retracts his hand faster than he could blink.

“You’re supposed to warm it up, Hajime!” Oikawa reprimands with a slight wince, prompting another blush to show itself in Iwaizumi’s cheeks.

“I obviously didn’t know that!”

“I can do it myself if—”

“I want to do it, Tooru,” Iwaizumi cuts him off with finality. Oikawa raises an eyebrow at this, and chagrined, Iwaizumi rubs the back of his head with his free hand. “Can you guide me, at least?”

Oikawa’s chiding pout fades into a supportive smile. “Well, just warm it in your fingers— _yeah, like that_ —and ease one finger in. I’ll tell you if I can take another.”

Iwaizumi does as instructed and hesitantly rubs Oikawa’s entrance, watching with keen eyes as Oikawa squirmed when he slowly added some pressure. He feels his heart beat faster, however, when Oikawa spread his legs to accommodate him.

He slips a finger in and stares intently at Oikawa—searching for any sign of discomfort—but there wasn’t really any (thanks to the amount of lube he accidentally poured all over his hand). He presses his finger in slowly, gentle and thorough to ensure that Oikawa will be stretched out properly, and once Oikawa says he’s ready for another finger, he adds one as carefully as he can.

More than once Oikawa complained about the pace he set, but Iwaizumi would not be dissuaded from taking it slow just to cave into Oikawa’s impatience, so he ignores Oikawa’s abrupt call for a third finger and scissors the two inside Oikawa. He even twists Oikawa’s nipple at one point in retaliation, but unfortunately for him, his boyfriend looked like he enjoyed it instead of being chastised.

Only once Iwaizumi deems Oikawa loose enough does he consider nudging a third finger in, but the sight of his two fingers wedged inside Oikawa suddenly made him… bothered. Iwaizumi can’t imagine the act being pleasurable for Oikawa at all. _Does this actually feel good for him? Could he be faking the moans that have been escaping his mouth since we’ve started?_

“Stop furrowing your eyebrows like that, Hajime,” Oikawa sing-songs, effectively interrupting his internal monologue. “It’s my asshole, not a math problem!”

Iwaizumi pinches his side hard enough for him to wince, smiles vindictively when Oikawa yelps, and plunges a third finger in.

He’s still slightly hesitant about his movements, but with every rise in pitch of Oikawa’s voice, his confidence also grows. He starts flicking his wrist with increasing speed, massaging Oikawa’s walls in hopes of making the whole ordeal enjoyable for him.

But if Oikawa’s mewls and ragged breathing are anything to go by… then Iwaizumi supposes he’s doing a pretty decent job.

He still needs to be affirmed though. “Good?”

“ _Hah—_ yes, more—”

Iwaizumi complies, trying to reach deeper with each jerk of his hand, and he probably grazed something when he did that because Oikawa lets out his loudest moan yet. He chooses this moment to thank the downpour and the way it drums against the roof; as much as he appreciates listening to Oikawa in the throes of pleasure, he also wants to spare himself the mortifying experience of being overheard.

Sensing that Oikawa is approaching his climax again, he carefully pulls his hand back with his eyes trained on the way Oikawa clenches on nothing. Oikawa whines, wholly unimpressed that he was denied an orgasm twice that night, but Iwaizumi is preoccupied with other thoughts to placate him. Things just got _very real_ , and the thought of being inside Oikawa within the next few minutes is giving him jitters he did not ask for. It’s still surreal after all; they were only celebrating Oikawa’s eighteenth birthday a few hours ago, and when they got stuck under the rain, this was not how he envisioned their evening to be like. It also dawns on him then that even after more than a decade of companionship, it is fascinating how they continue to unlock certain firsts together, how there is still a myriad of firsts they have yet to cross out.

Iwaizumi wants all of it. He wants all of it—with Oikawa.

The sentiment brings him much-needed lucidity, so with the streak of decisiveness he’s been trying to find since the beginning of the night, he reaches for one foil packet from the box of condoms he placed by the _futon_ ’s side. He then tries to kick off his boxers and makes it a rather quick affair in hopes of staving off the embarrassment he knows will catch up to him later on, but one look at Oikawa’s darkened, eager eyes is all it takes for _later on_ to become _now_.

“D—don’t look at _my dick_ like that!” Iwaizumi sputters, but Oikawa only waves him off with a mocking grin as he sits up.

“What? You get to ogle at me all night but I can’t even appreciate what’s going to be _inside_ of me? Such a selfish man you are, Hajime,”

Groaning, Iwaizumi bumps his forehead with Oikawa’s and exhales loudly through his nose. “Why do you have to make this weirder that it already is, Tooru?”

Oddly enough, Oikawa immediately cracks an honest grin at his question.

“Oh, _please_. The only weird thing about us having sex tonight is the fact that it didn’t happen _sooner_.”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, isn’t it?”

Leaning in until their lips are just breath away, Oikawa whispers, “And what about it?”

Iwaizumi closes the gap, hands reaching for Oikawa’s hair to tangle themselves into the soft tufts and pulls him impossibly closer. Meanwhile, Oikawa sucks on his bottom lip while his hands inch towards Iwaizumi’s unattended cock. Having been ignored the entire time, it doesn’t come off as a surprise that the sensation of Oikawa’s hand wrapping around his erection for the first time that night almost makes him come right there and then. Oikawa is thankfully mindful enough to grip the base of his cock with one hand while he strokes the length with another to bring him to full hardness (as if Iwaizumi _actually_ _needed_ it) in case Iwaizumi blows his load before they even get to start.

Breaking the kiss, Oikawa’s eyes flicker to the side where Iwaizumi knows the condoms are just waiting to be used. “Let me?”

Iwaizumi nods and watches with rapt attention as Oikawa tears the foil packet open and takes the condom out before he rolls it onto Iwaizumi’s cock. The contact makes his breath hitch, but Oikawa pays him no mind as he lathers lube around his girth, eyes locked on Iwaizumi the entire time. Once he’s sure that Iwaizumi is lubed enough to go, he lies on his back once more.

Iwaizumi does the liberty of pushing Oikawa’s knees up to his chest before lining up his cock to Oikawa’s entrance. He then takes one last look at Oikawa before actually pushing in, and when Oikawa smiles at him reassuringly, he slides in.

The breath is practically punched out of him once the head of his cock manages to fit, but in the haze of pleasure he reminds himself to check in on Oikawa before losing focus altogether, so he steels himself and looks at Oikawa whose brows are knitted in what seems to be discomfort.

“Does it hurt, Tooru? Do I pull out?”

“No— _ah_ —I mean, yes, it stings a little bit, but don’t pull out! Let me—let me just get used to it first.”

Not knowing what else to do, he leans down to press a ghost of a kiss on Oikawa’s forehead and reaches for one of his hands to lace their fingers. “Take as much time as you need, ok? No rush.”

Oikawa lips curve slightly amid the deep breaths he’s taking. Then, he rolls his hips upward, taking Iwaizumi by surprise as he takes Iwaizumi’s cock inside him inch by inch.

“H—Hajime, it feels _so good_.” Oikawa gasps while he shifts his hips upwards, and Iwaizumi— _well_ , with the way the tight heat envelopes the entirety of his length, how could he disagree?

Once he’s bottomed out, Iwaizumi admits, “I probably won’t last long.”

“I already almost came twice tonight,” Oikawa snickers. “I probably won’t last long either.”

Iwaizumi keeps their rhythm slow, both in a feeble attempt to not finish off right away and to let Oikawa adjust to his size, and while he waits for Oikawa’s face to even out, he rubs small circles onto Oikawa’s hip with his free hand. Of course, with his eyes concentrated on every miniscule change in Oikawa’s expression, he catches the exact moment Oikawa succumbs to pleasure. His eyes flutter closed as his mouth parts to let out a sound so maddeningly erotic that Iwaizumi’s knees buckle.

Iwaizumi has always known that Oikawa is beautiful, but the Oikawa before him was simply ethereal.

“You can move properly now,” Oikawa mumbles, but Iwaizumi is still too entranced to speak, so:

“Please _fuck me_ , Hajime.”

Now, without delay, Iwaizumi pulls back just as the head of his cock catches on Oikawa’s rim before pushing in again with renewed vigor. The moans that leave Oikawa is music to his ears— _he wants more of it_ —so he steadily quickens his pace and deepens his thrusts each time their hips meet. Amid it all he familiarized himself with how Oikawa’s muscles pull taut, how a chorus of soft _yesses_ leave his mouth, and how he is just _so_ painfully pliant for Iwaizumi’s touch.

Iwaizumi lets go of Oikawa’s hand to brace his elbows by Oikawa’s head to bring their faces closer, waiting for Oikawa to catch his gaze. Once he does, Oikawa regards him with a smile of his own, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and _fuck_.

Iwaizumi is hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.

“Hey, Hajime,” Oikawa mutters into the space between them. “Do you remember those times when we were six and always wrestled together?”

Iwaizumi easily retrieves the memory from his ever-growing library of all things Oikawa; his recollections of their childhood are fond after all, and despite the ruggedness of rolling on damp soil until one of them surrenders, Iwaizumi still thinks of it special.

This brief introspection, however, momentarily distracts him from what Oikawa is trying to insinuate, and it takes him a couple of seconds to connect the dots.

“You could not be possibly thinking of our six-year-old selves while I am literally _inside you_ , Tooru.”

Seeing the affronted look on Iwaizumi’s face, Oikawa chortles. “I’m just comparing two similar yet different scenarios! You always managed to pin me to the floor any— _oh_ —”

His voice abruptly tapers off into a moan as Iwaizumi changes the angle of his thrusts. Iwaizumi mentally pats himself on the back for it; it had been a fool-proof method to get Oikawa to shut up about their childhood in the middle of sex. The interruption doesn’t erase the smile on Oikawa’s face though, and Iwaizumi is well aware that the smile is mirrored on his face.

“I guess I should be grateful now for the extra time you take just to do core workouts.”

Not expecting the statement, Iwaizumi looks at him questioningly. He regrets entertaining it soon enough when Oikawa eyes the length of his body smugly. “Well, you look like you’re hardly breaking a sweat!”

“Clearly I don’t seem to be doing enough if you’re still this bratty.”

With that Iwaizumi rocks into him again, this time with the intention of bringing the both of them to their climax. He fucks into Oikawa harder, finally accustomed to the motions of it, and feels the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm creep into him. The way Oikawa is moving erratically under him suggests that the same can be said for him, so Iwaizumi reaches for Oikawa’s weeping cock and times his strokes to each buck of his hips until Oikawa convulses underneath him with a cry.

Come splatters obscenely on Oikawa’s chest, and _that_ visual stimulus is the last push Iwaizumi needs to reach his peak, so he thrusts once, twice, before he comes as well.

They take a moment to catch their breath, their loud pants drowning out the sound of the raging rain. Iwaizumi is the first to gather his bearings, so he dedicates those few seconds to observing the picture of elation Oikawa makes. Iwaizumi honestly thinks he looks stunning like this, with his chestnut hair fanning out across the pillow like a halo and the ghost of a relieved smile still frozen on his lips. He almost looks like an angel who’s somehow found his way to Iwaizumi’s room, but he’ll be damned if he ever lets Oikawa know that he associates him with celestial beings. Iwaizumi has been getting more and more generous with his compliments now, but he still makes it a point to hold back, not wanting to stroke Oikawa’s ego too much to the point of insufferableness.

But then Oikawa opens his eyes, hypnotizing pools of molten chocolate gazing up at him, and in his awe Iwaizumi momentarily forgets why he ever wanted to not shower Oikawa with praises.

Iwaizumi means to tell him something along the lines of how beautiful he looks, but with his post-orgasm daze still at play, what tumbles out of his mouth is:

“I love you, Tooru.”

Oikawa beams at him, almost too bright in the darkness of his room, and with the ease that comes to someone who has loved as long as Iwaizumi had, he replies, “I love you too, Hajime.”

They both collapse into a fit of giggles—high off the afterglow or the giddiness that always accompanies those three words, Iwaizumi isn’t sure—before wordlessly staring at each other just to take it all in. They stay in that position contentedly for a while before Oikawa starts pushing him off with a wince. Only then does Iwaizumi register how disgusting he actually feels, and judging the distaste evident on Oikawa’s features, he must be feeling the same—or worse, considering his ass is covered with lube and his entire torso is painted with drying come. Iwaizumi takes this as his cue to pull out and slip the condom off his already softening dick before tying it securely and leaving it by his bedside for him to pick up once they both stand.

“Hey, Hajime,”

Iwaizumi hums in response as he wipes Oikawa’s chest with the tissue he keeps by his bedside.

“About that warm shower you were saying earlier… do you think we can take one now?”

With a chuckle, he throws a crumpled piece of tissue at Oikawa’s face before hauling him up to take that bath he’s been wanting to have before _any_ of this began.

(And if they take far too much time rinsing each other off inside the cramped bathroom because of their restless hands, _well_ , nobody has to know.)

**Author's Note:**

> say hi to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lqiwaoi)!


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